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ABRAHAM LINCOLN

ADDRESS BY

G. LYNN SUMNER

LINCOLN DAY

Kiwanis Club of Scranton, Pa.

February 15, 1922

COMPLIMENTS OF ROBERT E. PRENDERGAST

COPYRIGHT. 1922. BY G. LYNN SUMNER. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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FROM THE ORIGINAL ETCHING BY EARL HORTER
OWNED AND COPYRIGHTED BY THE INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOLS

Abraham Lincoln

F you stand upon the top of a great moun-
tain and look about you, you will see
rugged rocks, and yawning crevices, and
precipitous slopes, and on every hand peaks of
lesser prominence, and you are conscious only
that the height upon which you stand is part of
a great upheaval in nature 's architecture.

But as you descend the mountain and draw
away from it, the rocks and crevices so promi-
nent when close at hand now soften into dim
details, and as you go on across the valley or the
plain mile after mile and look back, the moun-
tain on which you stood a little while before
stands out in majestic splendor and the lesser
peaks become but a setting that adds by con-
trast to the inspiring height that now over-
shadows and out-glories all.

Just so has the passing of the years added
glory to the greatness of Lincoln. And so have
the men among whom he moved in that turbu-
lent period of the nation's great internal conflict
become but lesser figures that add by contrast
to the stature of the greatest American.

There are so many phases to Lincoln's great-
ness that in so brief a time one can touch but
lightly on his character.

I might speak of him as a great lawyer, for
his principles of practice established a code of
ethics for members of the bar.

I might speak of him as a great orator, for
his eloquence was the kind that carried convic-
tion to the souls of men.

I might speak of him as a great writer, for
his letters and speeches and state papers are
evidence of his mastery of the English language.

I might speak of him as a great statesman,
for he has been called ' ' the greatest ruler of men
the world has ever known."

But I am going to pass over all these charac-
teristics of his greatness and speak of him as a
man among men, and of his influence upon two
or three of the outstanding figures of his time.

I think we sometimes forget that the first
forty-five years of Lincoln's life were spent in
comparative obscurity. We are familiar now
with the struggles of his earlier years, because

in a realization of his greatness we have gone
back and learned about him — his humble birth,
the pitiful poverty of his boyhood, the hardships
of his youth, the simple story of his middle life.
But the truth is that with the exception of three
inconsequential terms in the Illinois Legislature,
beginning in 1836, and a single term in Congress
in 1846 and '47, Lincoln did not appear promi-
nently in public life until 1854. Almost continu-
ously for twenty years he practiced law on the
circuit in Illinois.

During this same period, there was develop-
ing, also in Illinois, another man with whom
Lincoln's life was destined to come into frequent
and eventually momentous contact. That man
was Stephen A. Douglas.

You could scarcely imagine two men more
strangely in contrast in physical appearance.
Lincoln, six feet four, long, lanky, awkward,
homely. Douglas, short, stocky, with a great
head, a strong face, always immaculately
dressed. Yet their physical contrast was no
greater than the contrast in their political suc-
cess during their early years. Both as young-
men had sat with the crowd around Joshua
Speed's store in Springfield and discussed, as
was the custom, the issues of the day. Both had
been suitors for the hand of Mary Todd. Both
had served in the Illinois Legislature in 1836.

Then their ways parted, Lincoln returning to
his law practice, and Douglas, a young idol of
the Democrats of Illinois, launching forth into a
career of political achievement scarcely, if ever,
equalled in American history. In the legisla-
ture at 23, he became at 26 Secretary of State of
Illinois, at 28 a Judge of the Illinois Supreme
Court, at 30 a member of Congress, and at 34 a
United States Senator. His star was in the
swift ascendency, and its course seemed to lead
straight to a realization of the ambition of his
life— the Presidency.

But with ail his ability, his splendid qualities
and his splendid service to his party, his state,
and the nation, Douglas had one weakness. To
attain his ambition he was willing to compro-
mise on the supreme and vital question of
slavery. To win the Presidency he dare not
alienate the South, and so, although a staunch

supporter in 1848 of the Missouri Compromise,
which definitely placed a limit upon slave terri-
tory, he broke faith with it in 1854 and himself
introduced an amendment to the Nebraska bill
providing that the people of that Territory
might themselves determine whether it should
be ''slave" or "free." This shift in his posi-
tion on the slave question required an explana-
tion among his constituents and brought him
home to Illinois in 1854 to defend his position.

During these years when Douglas was so
prominent in public life, Lincoln had followed
his progress with unflagging interest and he had
followed, too, every move in the rising tide
against slavery. And in Lincoln's mental make-
up there was no room for compromise. No mat-
ter what his personal ambitions, to the exten-
sion of slave territory he was unalterably op-
posed.

Douglas, seeking large gatherings of people,
learned that the State Fair was to be held at
Springfield, and on the opening day presented
himself and made a speech to an audience that
crowded the hall of the State House. During
the early part of his address he said : "I under-
stand there is to be a reply to this address, and
that Mr. Lincoln, of this city, is to answer me.
If this is true, I wish Mr. Lincoln would stand
forth. ' ' Lincoln was not in the audience at the
time, as Douglas probably well knew.

But the next day, at the same place, and with
an equally large audience, Lincoln was present,
and when the challenge was repeated, Lincoln
stood forth and at that moment emerged into
public life, never again to return to obscurity.
For following the speech of Douglas, he mounted
the platform and spoke for three hours, deliver-
ing what many believe to be the greatest speech
of his life.

A few days later Douglas went to Blooming-
ton and Lincoln followed and answered him
there. And still a few days later when Douglas
appeared at Peoria, Lincoln answered him there.
It was after the Peoria meeting that Douglas
went to Lincoln and said to his antagonist:
"Lincoln, you understand this question of pro-
hibiting slavery in the Territories better than
all the opposition in the Senate of the United
States. I cannot make anything by debating it
with you. ' '

And with this plea he begged Lincoln to de-
sist. To this truce Lincoln agreed and both
abandoned the field and returned to their homes.
Lincoln's first skirmish with Douglas had been

won and Lincoln had made himself the logical
and unanimous choice of the Republicans as
candidate for Senator four years later.

So now it was 1858 and Douglas was again
back in Illinois, this time not merely to defend
his policies, but as the Democratic candidate to
plead for his re-election to the Senate. And
now Lincoln and Douglas for the first time were
matched in a contest for the same high office.

It was in this campaign that the great series
of Lincoln-Douglas debates were arranged and
carried out. Neither before nor since has there
ever been anything like them in American his-
tory— two intellectual giants, proceeding from
city to city, discussing in public forum the vital,
burning issue of the time.

But there was a marked difference in the
manner of the two men. Douglas was speaking
directly to his audiences. Lincoln was speaking
not only to the people before him but also over
and beyond them to the people of America.

Some of Lincoln's friends were alarmed at
his tactics and warned him that if he were not
more careful Douglas would win. "Perhaps he
will," Lincoln answered, "but the battle of 1860
is worth a hundred of this. ' ' And he continued
his attacks, repeatedly asking Douglas search-
ing questions and forcing him to take in his
answers compromising positions that he as
persistently sought to avoid. And in this was
the foresight of Lincoln revealed. For while
Douglas won the election, he won it on a basis
that cost him the support of the South in the in-
finitely greater political crisis two years later.

The debates with Douglas had made Lincoln
the outstanding Republican of Illinois. He was
still comparatively unknown in the East. But
February, 1860, was to witness an event of
mighty significance in Lincoln's political career.

Lincoln's son, Robert, was in school in Ver-
mont and when there came from Brooklyn an
offer of $200 to speak on a lyceum program in a
Brooklyn church, Lincoln immediately accep-
ted because the $200 would enable him to visit
his boy at school. After arrangements had been
made, however, the Brooklyn people began to
doubt whether this little known lawyer from the
West could draw a $200 house, so they turned
him over to a political club that was conducting
in Cooper Union a series of lectures on the slave
question.

I think no finer story has ever been told of
this Cooper Union speech than that related by

Dr. Russell H. Conwell. He was teaching school
in New Hampshire, where he had been a neigh-
bor of William Cullen Bryant. But in Feb-
ruary, 1860, he was in New York going about to
churches and to political meetings to hear the
great orators of the time. Bryant was to be
chairman of the Cooper Union meeting and he
invited Conwell and a young friend to come.

As they approached the hall that evening,
they found a crowd of disturbers outside and
they were stopped and questioned. "Are you
nigger-men?" asked one of Conwell. "And,"
says Conwell, ' ' we thought he was asking us if
we were negroes and we answered 'No,' and
with that he gave us some dried onions, saying,
'Put these under your coats and when you hear
five whistles, throw 'em at the feller speakin'.'
So we took the onions and went in. ' '

Inside there was a crowd, a great, restless
crowd. And on the platform was a strange con-
trast of figures. There was William Cullen
Bryant, the Chairman, fine looking, venerable in
his years, charming of manner, perfectly at ease.
And over at one side sat the speaker of the
evening. His feet were tangled in the rungs of
his chair, his eyes were downcast, beside him on
the floor stood his beaver hat, and in it might be
seen the manuscript of his speech.

Finally he arose. One leg of his trousers
had caught on the back of his shoe. He had run
his fingers through his hair and left a lock
standing straight up behind. He had forgotten
to remove the pencil over his right ear.

Holding his manuscript in trembling hands,
he began to read it in a harsh, unpleasant voice.
The audience, already uneasy, grew in restless-
ness. There were even hisses from one corner
of the room. As the minutes dragged on, the
suspense became intolerable — they were min-
utes of agony.

Finally, in turning the pages of his paper
with shaking hands, a sheet dropped unseen to
the floor. A moment later he had reached that
point in his reading, he saw that something was
missing, and he stood there, embarrassed, a piti-
ful figure. Then suddenly, in desperation, he
cast the manuscript aside, and throwing out a
long arm, looked full into the faces of his audi-
ence and launched himself into an indictment of
slavery. The audience grew still, then atten-
tive, then absorbed. The change was magical.
It was as if some unseen influence was making
itself felt. And when the speaker had finished,

the whole audience was on its feet in wild ap-
plause.

The East now knew Lincoln.

That was the 17th of February, 1860. Three
months later Lincoln was nominated at Chicago
as the Republican candidate for President. The
Democrats, split into two factions on the slave
question, put forth two candidates — the South-
ern wing, Breckinridge, the northern wing,
Stephen A. Douglas. So now again Lincoln and
Douglas were contenders, this time for the
supreme goal. And Lincoln's victory at last
had come.

On March 4, 1861, a vast crowd had assem-
bled before the East Portico of the Capitol, for a
President was about to be inaugurated. On the
platform a group of the nation's greatest men
waited his coming. Finally Lincoln stepped
forth. He wore a new suit of clothes, and there
had been few enough new suits in Lincoln's life.
But to add to the awkwardness of the situation,
he carried a new high silk hat and a gold-
headed cane, and he had not the slightest idea
what to do with them. After an embarrassed
pause, he stood the cane in a corner. But he
could find no place for the hat and he stood there
holding it. And then, while the eyes of the
multitude looked on, Douglas stepped forward,
took the hat from his hand, and held it while
Lincoln took the oath of office and delivered his
inaugural address. Thus in such simple form
came the dramatic climax to their last, long race.
While one was crowned with the highest honors
to which their conflicting ambitions had aspired,
the other humbly held the victor's hat.

During the early months of Lincoln's admin-
istration, he had no critic more bitter than
Edwin M. Stanton. Stanton, a Democrat, had
been Attorney General in the Buchanan cabinet
and there had demonstrated his tremendous
ability, virtually holding the crumbling Bu-
chanan administration together as it drew to a
close. But he looked upon Lincoln's rise to the
Presidency as a national disaster. Not only
Lincoln's policy, but his personal appearance
was a target for Stanton's invectives. He habit-
ually referred to Lincoln as the "original gor-
illa" and said that "Du Chaillu was a fool to
wander all over Africa in search of what he
could so easily have found in Springfield, Illi-
nois."

After the battle of Bull Run, Stanton wrote
to Buchanan: "The imbecility of this adminis-

tration culminated in that catastrophe; and
irretrievable misfortune and national disgrace,
never to be forgotten, are to be added to the
ruin of all peaceful pursuits and national bank-
ruptcy, as the result of Lincoln's 'running the
machine,' for five months. . . It is not unlikely
that some change in the War and Navy Depart-
ments may take place, but none beyond those
two departments until Jeff Davis turns out the
whole concern."

Yet in January, 1862, nine months after Lin-
coln's inauguration, Stanton was invited to
become a. member of his cabinet. Simon Cam-
eron, Secretary of War, had been unequal to the
task. A strong man was needed, and Lincoln,
seeking only ability and willing to overlook per-
sonalities, saw in Stanton the qualities required
for the War Department's tremendous respon-
sibility.

Stanton accepted with supreme confidence in
himself and no lessening of his contempt for
Lincoln. He looked upon the call to duty solely
as a personal obligation to save the country.
But upon the task before him he centered all his
great talents and energies.

It is doubtful whether any act of Lincoln's
caused more amazement among Republicans
than his selection of Stanton for the War Office.
His friends warned him that Stanton would give
him no end of trouble, that he would run away
with the whole concern. But Lincoln showed
no signs of alarm.

"We may have to treat him," said he, "as
they are sometimes obliged to treat a Methodist
minister I know of out West. He gets wrought
up to so high a pitch of excitement in his
prayers and exhortations, that they are obliged
to put bricks into his pockets to keep him down.
We may be obliged to serve Stanton the same
way, but I guess we'll let him jump awhile
first."

Lincoln's constant attitude toward Stanton
was one of patience and toleration. He seemed
willing to make any sacrifice of pride, if only
Stanton's great energies might be ceaselessly
applied to the prosecution of the war.

One day, Owen Lovejoy, heading a delega-
tion of Western men, came down to Washington
to urge upon the President that the mingling of
Western and Eastern troops would promote the
spirit of national unity. Lincoln thought well
of the plan and wrote a note to Stanton sugges-
ting a transfer of certain regiments. When the

committee presented it to Stanton he said it was
impracticable and refused to carry it out.

"If Lincoln gave that order," said Stanton,
"he is a damn fool."

Returning to the White House, Lovejoy gave
Lincoln an exact report of the conversation.

"Did Stanton really say I was a damn fool?"
asked Lincoln.

"He did," answered Lovejoy.

"Then," said Lincoln, "I must be one, for
Stanton is nearly always right."

No one knew and understood better than Lin-
coln the great problems with which his War
Secretary had to contend, and no one was more
appreciative of his labors, more ready to sustain
him in his struggles to maintain the effective-
ness of the army.

"Stanton is the rock upon which are beating
the waves of this conflict," he said to some who
came complaining of the Secretary's refusal to
make an army appointment that they desired.
' " He fights back the angry waters and prevents
them from undermining and overwhelming the
land. I do not see how he survives — why he is
not crushed and torn to pieces. Without him I
should be destroyed."

Joseph Medill, publisher of the Chicago Trib-
une during the war, told a story of how at a
most critical period of the war, a new draft was
levied and the city of Chicago, which already
had furnished 20,000 men, was asked to send
6,000 more. There was a great mass meeting to
protest, and Medill headed a delegation that
went down to Washington to urge upon the
President a reduction in Chicago's allotment.

Lincoln said to them, "Come. I will go
over with you to Stanton and you can present
your case and we will see what he has to say."
When they had made their plea, Stanton shook
his head. "No," he said, "we must have the
men."

Then Lincoln, who all this while had been
sitting silent, tipped back in a chair, stood up,
and there was a cloud almost of anger on his
face.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you ought to be
ashamed of yourselves. No sections of the North
did so much to bring on this war as New Eng-
land and the Northwest. You in Chicago were
calling for it and you got it. And you, Medill,
with your Chicago Tribune and all its influence,
you were among those who wanted it most.

Now, when I am trying to carry it through to a
successful conclusion and call for more troops
to do it, you beg for mercy. Go back to Chicago
and raise those men!"

"We went out of that presence," said Medill,
"thoroughly ashamed of our mission, and we
went back to Chicago and raised the 6,000 men. ' '

It was the heroic meeting of such crises as
this that broke down Stanton's antagonism to-
ward Lincoln. Gradually, he came to know the
real Lincoln, and as the months went by, con-
tempt vanished, respect replaced it, and at last
a real affection.

But the burden Stanton carried wore down
even his rugged health and when, early in 1865,
Lee's surrender seemed imminent, Stanton
handed the President his resignation and asked
to be permitted to retire. But Lincoln, in a
burst of emotion, threw his arms about the
other, and said, "Stanton, you have been a good
friend and a faithful servant. It is not for you
to say how long the country needs you."

So Stanton remained at his post, and so it
happened that on that morning after the fatal
shot was fired in Ford's Theatre, it was Stanton
who sat just outside the door of the room in
which Lincoln lay, courageously meeting the
emergency, directing all. He issued orders for
the protection of others high in the administra-
tion, he maintained constant touch with Grant,
then hurrying by special train toward Washing-
ton, and there within sound of the moaning of
the dying President he dictated what is still the
best brief account of the awful night 's work.

And when at twenty minutes past seven,
Abraham Lincoln died, and there was a prayer
and a solemn pause, it was Stanton's voice that
broke the stillness with the words: "Now he
belongs to the ages. ' '

Lloyd George says, "Lincoln was one of
those few great men who lost their nationality
in death. ' '

John Drinkwater, building his great drama
out of Lincoln's life, considered him one of the
immortals. A^iewing his greatness from afar,
he wrote his play of Lincoln, looking upon him
as one of the greatest characters the world has
ever known. And when two years later, he
made his first visit to America and went out to
Springfield, he could scarcely realize that one so
great had lived so close to our own time, that
here were people still living who had seen him
and known him and looked into his face.

And it was in something of this same spirit
that the other day in Washington, I thought of
it as Lincoln's Washington. Here was the White
House where he lived and worked — here were
the windows out of which he looked across the
broad, sloping lawns. Here were the very streets
where he watched the marching troops. Here
was the Capitol and the East Portico where he
and Douglas stood that day in March of '61, and
where he stood again and delivered the never-
to-be-forgotten second inaugural. And here was
the little house in Tenth Street where they car-
ried him through the narrow doorway and up
the stairs- — to die.

And down by the Potomac was the magnifi-
cent Lincoln Memorial, the shrine to which men
come from the ends of the earth to pay tribute
to his memory.

Yet that is not the real Lincoln shrine. For
that mountainous figure, rising out of a humble
cabin in Hodgenville, Kentucky, stands today in
majestic splendor, so that the rising and the set-
ting sun cast West and East across the land the
shadow of its influence into all our lives and
set up a Lincoln shrine in the heart of every
American.

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WITH ABIDING FAITH IN THE PRINCIPLES
OF KIWANIS AND WITH LOVE AND ESTEEM FOR
THE AUTHOR, THIS LITTLE BROCHURE IS MADE.

ROBERT E. PRENDERGAST